Innocence dies on the morrow –
but you don’t need to know that.
The thought of what is to come
would kill you before your time;
you need this night.
You need this moment,
this avenue of secret stillness,
this scented ‘now’ that sweeps away breath
and catches heart in throat to behold.
It is well that
you will have something to hold on to
when innocence dies.
and store up dreams
in girlish pockets,